


Unexpected

by suburbantimewaster



Category: Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)
Genre: F/M, No beta reader, first work in this fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2670440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suburbantimewaster/pseuds/suburbantimewaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Scarlett Rivera applies for a secretarial job under Willy Wonka, he hires her as an artist instead.  Torn between society's beliefs and her own desires, she finds herself drawn to the charming and enigmatic chocolatier.  Will Willy Wonka's world be too much for her, or will she learn to expect the unexpected?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to continue my Lorax fanfic but a couple of plot bunnies won't leave my brain. One for Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and the other Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. So, I'm just going to get the first chapter out of each one and hope to put both stories on hold for a while. First I'd like to thank kaafan10 from deviantart for role-playing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and renewing my interest in Willy Wonka. I'd also like to thank mircosedy for talking about it with me and encouraging me to write this fanfic. I don't own anything, save for a few original characters.

Scarlett Rivera looked through her sketchbook, hoping to calm herself down. Today was the day of the job interview and to say she was nervous was an understatement. Sure it was just a job for being a common secretary but it was the great Willy Wonka himself who needed one. Scarlett had no experience working in this field, so she was a little surprised when he called her back for an interview.

Scarlett held her sketchbook to her breasts and took a deep breath while looking around the room. It was peculiar with the yellow walls and the floor covered in a red carpet like a movie star would come in any second. There was only one window and it was covered with squares of all different colors.

Then a scary thought occurred to her. Maybe Mr. Wonka wasn't looking for a competent secretary, maybe he just wanted eye candy. He was a candy man after all. If that was the case, Scarlett definitely wasn't getting the job. While her face was round, soft and pale with her cheeks covered in a peach blush accompanied by blood red lips and her dull brown almond shaped eyes were surrounded by a dark eyeliner that created the wing effect and a few fake eyelashes to finish it off; her shoulder-length hair was mouse brown and her figure was practically a stick with little to no curves and small breasts. Scarlett's best feature was her shapely legs but she couldn't dress to show them off. However, she did make sure to look professional with a white shirt, a white long sleeve jacket that she buttoned up and a long white flowing skirt with her legs covered in nylon stockings that were the same color as her skin and white stiletto pumps to finish the look off.

"Miss Rivera," Mr. Wonka called from his office.

Scarlett left her sketchbook on the stairway rail and grabbed her black string knit purse. She took a big gulp and entered, wobbling a little. Maybe she should've listened to her roommate and wore flat pumps. The walls of Mr. Wonka's office were white with yellow stripes covered in flowers with a wooden desk leaning on the far wall stacked with papers, a bust and a cigar holder with a fresh cigar. In the chair was a man with untamed curly blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, Willy Wonka himself. With the white long sleeve shirt, lilac vest, giant gray bowtie and tan pants he was wearing, Mr. Wonka did not look like an entrepreneur. If he was wearing the purple trench coat on the coat rack near the door, the tan hat kept on the statue on his desk and carrying the wooden cane laid next to the coat rack, he'd look like a circus ring leader. Despite Mr. Wonka's strange attire, he carried a dignified presence that made Scarlett feel small, even when he was sitting down.

"H-hi," Scarlett said nervously in her smooth southern accent trying to keep still.

"Interesting accent," Mr. Wonka noted with a deep alluring voice and a charming smile, turning to face her. "And your name is Scarlett?"

"Like Scarlett O'Hara," Scarlet said with a nervous smile, her heart pounding like mad. "Regular southern belle."

Yeah, she wished. The only things she and Scarlett O'Hara could possibly have in common were the name and accent.

"Oh, so you've read the book," Mr. Wonka said sounding interested.

"Yeah, I love Scarlett O'Hara," Scarlett said confidently, thinking this interview might go easier than she thought. "She's beautiful, she's-"

Mr. Wonka's smile disappeared. "Did you just say that she was beautiful?" he asked.

"You didn't think so?" Scarlett said, confused. Scarlett O'Hara wasn't beautiful? What kind of women could this man get that would make him think such a thing?

"In the movie, yes," Mr. Wonka explained. "Not in the book."

Scarlett's face turned bright red. So, that's what he meant. Mr. Wonka turned to the papers on his desk and started writing on the top one .

"Applicant lies if she thinks it will get her what she wants," Mr. Wonka mumbled loudly enough for Scarlett to hear. She couldn't tell if he didn't realize it or if he was doing it on purpose. Either way, it made Scarlett feel less like Mr. Wonka was interviewing her for a job and more like he was studying an animal at the Central Park Zoo.

"Actually, I wasn't lying to get the job. I just didn't want to sound stupid," Scarlett weakly defended.

"Her attempts to sound intelligent make her sound idiotic," Mr. Wonka mumbled as he continued writing, not even looking up from his paper. Scarlett couldn't tell if her face was red from anger or embarrassment. Then Mr. Wonka turned away from his paper and focused on Scarlett with a charming smile. "Do sit down, dear lady. You look a little unsteady."

Scarlett anxiously took the seat leaning on the left wall, trying to keep her balance. "Sorry, Sir, I have trouble walking in stilettos."

"Then why wear them?" Mr. Wonka asked.

"Because I wanted to look presentable," Scarlett answered proudly.

Mr. Wonka turned back to the paper on his desk and wrote ferociously on it. "Applicant sacrifices comfort for vanity."

Scarlett didn't know if Mr. Wonka was insane, stupid, or just plain mean.

"Mr. Wonka, are these questions really necessary?" Scarlett asked hesitantly.

"Au contraire, they tell me who you are as a person," Mr. Wonka said, turning his attention back to Scarlett with a charming smile, making Scarlett wonder if the man was bipolar. "However, we should get to the interview. So, what experience do you have working as a secretary."

"Actually, I'm a recent graduate of Columbia," Scarlett said, hoping she could salvage this interview. "I'm a fast learner. Just ask my professors. When I didn't understand something, I'd stick with it until I did. My roommate—"  
  
"Applicant wastes interviewer's time with personal details," Wonka mumbled as he went back to writing on his paper.  
Scarlett couldn't tell if he was actually making notes or just scribbling on the paper. Wonka thought of something and looked up.  
"You said 'Columbia'. Do you mean the university?"  
Wonka knew Columbia University didn't accept women, but this one, without make-up, might make it masquerading as a boy. Wouldn't that be interesting, if she had.  
  
"Um, er, no," Scarlett began. She'd been hoping Wonka would think that when she said it, but the 'O'Hara' exchange had taught her something. "Columbia School of Business Administration. It was a two year program, very intense, my roommate helped me—"  
"Applicant attempts to mislead interviewer with incomplete answers," Wonka mumbled returning to his notes.

"Mr. Wonka?" Scarlett asked hesitantly.

"Yes?" Mr. Wonka said with that same charming smile that Scarlett was starting to wonder was fake.

"If you... If you," Scarlet wasn't sure how to begin.

"What is it, my dear lady?" Mr. Wonka asked in a pleasant tone.

Scarlett took a cigarette from her purse and placed in her mouth. She lit it and took one puff, feeling her heartbeat slow.

"If you have to take notes, could you at least not mumble them loud enough for me to hear?" Scarlett asked Mr. Wonka politely.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid that I'm a tad bit hard of hearing," Mr. Wonka told her and then went back to his desk. "Applicant feels the need to tell her interviewer how he should do his job."

Apparently, Mr. Wonka's hearing was selective. Did he feel that he was so loaded the common people were beneath him?

"Why do you wish to apply for this job?" Mr. Wonka asked.

Great, how was she supposed to answer this question? It's like her roommate said, she couldn't tell the truth in these situations but, if her lie was too obvious, Mr. Wonka would catch her in the act. Scarlett took another puff and cleared her throat.

"Well, I think it will be a valuable experience working with you," Scarlett began, and that was no lie. At least, it would've been before these events took place. "I also would like to expand my horizons, get to know people and become a little less shy." That was partially true. "I also need money for food and rent, so how much does this job pay?" Okay, that last part really didn't need to be said out loud.

Mr. Wonka kept his same charming demeanor. "Thank you for your time, my dear lady."

Scarlett got up from her chair, trying to steady herself in her stilettos.

"That's it? That was the entire interview?" Scarlett asked.

Mr. Wonka took the cigar from its holder and put it in his mouth. "I believe I have everything I need," he said as he lit it.

"That's great, I hope to..." Scarlett began, tightening her grip on her purse excitedly which instantly softened. "Wait a minute, I didn't get the job."

Mr. Wonka returned to his paper with the lit cigar in his mouth. Then took a puff out of it.

"She's also very observant," he mumbled while writing on his paper.

This was the last straw. Scarlett left the office and slammed the door in a fit of rage. Then she left the building and smoked the last few puffs of her cigarette. How could that man be so charming and so rude at the same time? Sure, the interview hadn't been going well but he didn't have to make it obvious and then hide it at the same time. One thing Scarlett absolutely knew, she liked the candy better than the candy man. Even if it would be a long time before she could open another Wonka bar.

* * *

The door slam jolted Willy as he put his pen down. He didn't think that the shrieking violet would be capable of that. Sure, she did point out what he was doing wrong but she mustered it with all the courage of a shopkeeper trying to tell a robber to please point the gun someplace else. Willy took another puff from his cigar, letting the smoke relax him. He never thought he'd interview so many bad applicants in one day. Some women were unskilled and thought that Willy would hire them simply because of their looks. While others acted like Willy would slap them if they said the slightest thing he didn't like. He thought about just letting someone else handle hiring a new secretary while he just focused on making candy. Then he realized that the man he put in charge of the interviews might hire one of the attractive women with no skills. It was amazing how far human superficiality could sink to.

Willy put the cigar back in its holder and took his top hat from the statue, his coat from the rack and his cane from right beside it, thinking it might do him best to work on some new candies. As soon as he left his office, he saw a book in the waiting room. Maybe Miss Rivera, left something here. Willy leafed through it and was taken unaware by its contents. In the book were sketches of a country meadow, a few of the drawings were of Miss Rivera dressed as Scarlett O'Hara, her getting married to a man of handsome built while an angry woman glared at them in a bridesmaid dress, a disheveled man living in a box on the street with a sign saying "give me change," and a few drawings of the wrappers for his chocolate. Willy couldn't help but notice that Miss Rivera took the time to draw new candy wrapper designs and this woman applied to be his secretary?

"Who would have thought that such a timid girl could hide such a bold talent."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Scarlett Rivera applies for a secretarial job under Willy Wonka, he hires her as an artist instead. Torn between society's beliefs and her own desires, she finds herself drawn to the charming and enigmatic chocolatier. Will Willy Wonka's world be too much for her, or will she learn to expect the unexpected? Also, I have a problem. This is still being beta-read but I'm really addicted to praise so I ended up posting it with the knowledge that I can always edit it later. I think that's why my chapters are so short. Does anyone have any tips for breaking this addiction?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made notes for this story, so I have it all planned out. It's just a shame that I can't share them with anyone. I've been watching Mad Men in order to get a feel for the decade I'm writing in, so in the last chapter I changed pantyhose to nylon stockings. Great show, hope you check it out for yourselves. If you recognize it from the movie, I don't own it.

Scarlett's foot nudged the accelerator of her blue, white topped, silver trimmed 1957 Chevy Bel Air until she topped the speed limit. The car seated four, the backseats never being used and, if her roommate were in the front seat, she'd be screaming at Scarlett to slow down. But she wasn't, something Scarlett was relieved about, because this time, her roommate's cries wouldn't be enough to offset her anger.  
  
When she parked outside of her large, square, apartment building, Scarlett slammed on the brakes. She slammed the car door with all the strength she could muster, and wanted nothing more than to get home as soon as possible. Thankfully, no one was using the lift.  
  
It was a relief to reach her homey apartment, with its built in fireplace, bay window, and yellow curtains, but Scarlett could hear that her roommate's day was going no better than hers.  
  
In her thick, Costa Rican accent, Maria Gonzalez was yelling into the phone. "You're the one who left me for your hot new secretary, so don't go blaming everything on me!"  
  
Scarlett threw her keys on the bookshelf to the right of the bay window, as Maria continued yelling at her ex-husband over the phone, a regular event.  
  
"No, I don't want you back! I just want you to start catching up on your alimony payments!"  
  
Scarlett leaned back on the red couch. Maria continued yelling, leaving Scarlett to wonder if separated couples were always so bitter and angry.  
  
"Sweetie-pie, after putting up with you, I'm entitled to a little compensation!"  
  
Scarlett put a cigarette to her mouth and lit it, inhaling the rich smoke as she listened.  
  
"No, I'm not trying to bleed you dry! I just want enough money to pay next month's rent!" Scarlett flicked the ash of her cigarette into the ashtray on the wooden coffee table in front of her. "If that's how you feel, then good-bye!"  
  
Scarlett heard a loud click from the kitchen.  
  
"I don't know why I even bother," Maria muttered as she entered the living room, smiling as soon as she saw Scarlett. "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in."  
  
Maria put a cigarette between her dark red lips, lit it, and took a drag.  
  
"Trouble with your ex-husband?" Scarlett asked as she took her own drag.  
  
Maria sighed. "How could you ever guess?"  
  
"Y'all shouting about alimony payments was a big tip off," Scarlett said.  
  
Maria twirled her curly shoulder-length black hair around her finger. "You'd think, after five years of marriage, he'd at least follow through on his responsibilities."  
  
"Well, you know what they say, better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all," Scarlett stated.  
  
Maria took the seat next to her. "Whoever said that must never have fallen in love," she muttered bitterly.  
  
"You'll find a new guy," Scarlett told her hopefully.  
  
"Not many men are willing to marry a woman over thirty," Maria said in a melancholy tone.  
  
In Maria's case, Scarlett found that hard to believe. Maria was Costa Rican, with a light-olive complexion, and a smooth, feminine, oval-shaped face. She wore light-pink blush on her cheeks. Dark eyeliner and sapphire-blue eye shadow accented her chocolate-brown eyes. Maria wore a bright red button down shirt that did nothing to hide her buxom curves, and a warm brown skirt that stopped at her knees, showing off her divine, hourglass figure. A pair of nylon stockings that matched her skin covered her legs, and she wore a pair of black, stiletto heels. When it came to beauty, Maria rivaled Marilyn Monroe. If a man could leave Maria, a man could leave anyone.  
  
"So, how'd your interview go?" Maria asked.  
  
"In a word, awful," Scarlett said, flicking her cigarette ash into the ashtray.  
  
"Why, what happened?"  
  
"Well, for starters, I choked on the interview," Scarlett explained.  
  
Maria gestured with the cigarette in her hand. "I need a little more to go on than that."  
  
"I lied about reading a book, went into a little too much detail about my personal life, and then I asked Mr. Wonka how much money the job pays," Scarlett explained. "None of this would have been so bad, if Mr. Wonka hadn't insisted on taking notes about what I did wrong, and mumbled them loud enough for me to hear him."  
  
"So, Wonka's a prick," Maria said as she took a long, languorous puff on her cigarette. "Why am I not surprised?"  
  
"Actually, it was weird," Scarlett said, the incident replaying in her mind. "One second, he was being polite and charming, and the next he was rude and obnoxious."  
  
"Sounds like Wonka's a bipolar nut job," Maria said supportively. "Did he at least like your artwork?"  
  
"Actually," Scarlett began hesitantly, "I applied to be his secretary."  
  
Maria put a hand to her mouth as she coughed violently. "You what!" Maria exclaimed. "I thought you were going to apply for the artist position!"  
  
"I changed my mind at the last minute," Scarlett explained, feeling a cough coming on herself.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's like my mom says," Scarlett said, coughing. "No man wants to marry a woman more successful than he is."  
  
"That's why you aim for the men more successful than you are," Maria told her.  
  
"No, those men want trophy wives," Scarlett responded as she inhaled her cigarette. "Besides, I was already angry Mr. Wonka rejected me as his secretary." With distaste she flicked her smoldering cigarette ash into the ashtray. "Imagine how I'd be if he didn't like my art."  
  
Just then the phone rang. Maria answered it immediately.  
  
"What do you want?" she growled harshly, then turned apologetic as she blushed. "Sorry, I thought you were someone else."  
  
There followed a few moments of silence.  
  
"Yeah, she's here." Maria handed the phone to Scarlett and winked. "Some guy. Looks like you've got a gentleman caller."  
  
"Thank you," Scarlett said to Maria as she put the phone to her ear. "May I ask who's calling?"  
  
"Hello, Miss Rivera," said a suave, alluring voice Scarlett would recognize anywhere.  
  
"Mr. Wonka," Scarlett replied. "Is this about the interview?"  
  
Maria's jaw dropped along with her lit cigarette.  
  
"Actually, I'm calling about a far more exciting opportunity," Mr. Wonka told her as Maria scrambled for her cigarette on the carpet. "Are you aware that you left your sketchbook in the cloak room?"  
  
"Oh, that," Scarlett said, going scarlett. She'd forgotten all about that. "I'm really sorry. I'll come pick it up."  
  
"Perhaps you can come tomorrow on your first day of work," Mr. Wonka told her, with a smirk in his voice.  
  
"First day?" Scarlett said, confused as she pressed the phone closer to her ear. "I don't understand."  
  
"Have I not made myself clear?" Mr. Wonka replied. "I want to hire you."  
  
"But you made it clear you weren't calling me back," Scarlett responded.  
  
"Clearly, that was before I saw your sketchbook."  
  
"What?" Scarlett said in disbelief, wanting to pinch herself.  
  
"Your talent lies far more in secretarial work than it does in creative work," Mr. Wonka told her, confusing Scarlett even more. "No, strike that, reverse it."  
  
"So, you're assuming that I'm going to agree to come work for you?" Scarlett said nervously.  
  
"I suppose I should ask first," Mr. Wonka said. "Miss Rivera, would you come work for me as an artist?"  
  
"As swell as working for you as an artist would be," Scarlett began, twirling the cord with her finger, "I'm not sure if..."  
  
Maria retrieved her cigarette and grabbed the phone before Scarlett could finish.  
  
"She'd love to," Maria said into the phone. "So, Mr. Wonka, are you still looking for a new secretary?"  
  
Scarlett was so dumbstruck by what had happened she didn't even hear what Maria was saying until the end of the conversation.  
  
"Great, I'll be there, bye," Maria said as she hung up the phone with a smile. "What a day. You get to be an artist, and I might have a new job."  
  
Before Scarlett could untie her tongue enough to ask what happened, Maria went to the kitchen and came back with two bars of Wonka chocolate  
  
Scarlett grabbed a bar. "Why did you do that?"  
  
"I wanted to celebrate, and Wonka chocolate seemed appropriate," Maria answered as she unwrapped her bar. "Mind if I turn on the TV? It's almost time for As The World Turns."  
  
"Go ahead," Scarlett answered absentmindedly. "I mean, why did you tell Mr. Wonka that I would work for him?"  
  
"Sweetie, are you kidding me? Willy Wonka asked you to work for him as an artist, and you were about to say no," Maria said as she walked over to the TV in front of them and turned it on. "I couldn't let that happen."  
  
"What if he doesn't like my work?" Scarlett worried. "He'll fire me without a second thought."  
  
"Honey, he wouldn't even think of hiring you if he didn't think you have talent," Maria told her as she went back in her seat. "Now stop talking negative– my show's on."  
  
"Yeah, because nothing negative happens on this show," Scarlett said sardonically.  
  
"What you call negative, I call riveting drama," Maria shot back. "Now be quiet."  
  
Scarlett took a bite of her chocolate and let it slowly melt in her mouth. Maria just bit into the chocolate and chewed it, enraptured with the show, while Scarlett found herself lost in the sweet taste of chocolaty goodness. She didn't really consider soap operas entertaining, but Maria loved them.  
  
"So, are you serious about becoming Mr. Wonka's secretary?" Scarlett asked as soon as a commercial break started.  
  
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"Well," Scarlett said, wondering how she should put this, "it's just that, the last guy you worked for was your ex-husband and he—,"  
  
"Ended up leaving me for the blonde bimbo he hired to replace me. Is that what you mean?" Maria said bitterly. "I've learned my lesson, and from what you said about Willy Wonka, he doesn't sound like my type."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
"Plus, we don't even know if he'll hire me."  
  
"Trust me, he will," Scarlett said, nodding to herself. All Maria would have to do is walk into Mr. Wonka's office and she'd get the job instantly. Meanwhile, Scarlett would walk into the building, draw something Mr. Wonka wouldn't like and lose the job.  
  
Scarlett was definitely not looking forward to her first day on the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scarlett now has her own Tumblr account at scarlettrivera1971.tumblr.com How do you like Maria? Those of you who've read How Bad Could It Be should recognize her. Yes, I do have a tendency to reuse the same OCs, but I had to make her lighter skinned in this fanfic becausepeople considered Hispanics a nationality in the fifties. They considered a light-skinned Hispanic white–that's why Desi Arnaz got away with being married to Lucille Ball on television–and I like to stay true to the time period I'm writing in. Personally, I don't think marriage is important, but it was everything to women in the fifties.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Scarlett Rivera applies for a secretarial job under Willy Wonka, he hires her as an artist instead. Torn between society's beliefs and her own desires, she finds herself drawn to the charming and enigmatic chocolatier. Will Willy Wonka's world be too much for her, or will she learn to expect the unexpected? 1971!movie verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you recognize it from the Wonka community, I don't own it. I'd like to thank my beta reader.
> 
> Let me tell you, I'm really into this story. It's to the point where I occasionally find myself speaking in a southern accent. I also realized that, since I'm writing a fanfic for a live-action movie, I'll have to change the character's outfits, except for Willy Wonka's because he's peculiar enough to wear the same outfit. Just gives me an excuse to keep playing doll maker games. I also found a website that tells you what your favorite color says about you, which will be very helpful.

"I don't know what I was thinking," Maria said, all shaken up, and soaked from the rain, as she and Scarlett entered the Cloak Room. "Letting you drive us over here. I must have lost my mind."

"So I go a little fast," Scarlett said, taking her pink raincoat off to reveal a white blouse, and a brown, flowing skirt. "We're still alive."

"Barely," Maria muttered, as she took her orange raincoat off to reveal a maroon dress, cut just above her knees, with short, poofy sleeves. "Sweetie, you may act like a polite little Southern Belle most of the time, but behind the wheel, you're a maniac."

"Says the girl who flirted with the traffic-ticket officer," Scarlett said, as she put her raincoat on one of the hangers that resembled a hand, and watched it grab her coat.

"Hon, it was either that, or let you get a ticket," Maria said, while Scarlett stared at the hooks. "And I don't remember you trying to stop me."

"Did you see that?" Scarlett asked.

"See what?" Maria said, as she put her raincoat on the hangar, and the hand grabbed it.

"That," Scarlett said, astonished. She then put her pink cloche hat on one of the hangars to watch it do the same.

"Yeah, that is weird," Maria said absentmindedly, as she put her matching orange cloche hat on another hangar.

"That's all you can say?" Scarlett said, examining the hangars.

"What else is there?"

"We're in the waiting room, and the hangars are hands that can grab your clothes," Scarlett said, fascinated. "It doesn't make you wonder about what other surprises this factory has in store?"

Maria shrugged. "Honey, I really don't care."

"Glad to see you find my hangars so fascinating, Miss Rivera," said a suave voice from behind Scarlett.

Scarlett turned around to see Mr. Wonka, and smiled nervously, while brushing her hair back with her fingers.

Maria took one glance at Mr. Wonka, and then at Scarlett with a look that said, "Does he seriously dress like that?"

Scarlett nodded her head at Maria in response.

"Hello, Mr. Wonka," Scarlett said, unsure of what else to say. Then she remembered what her mother taught her, and swept her right foot behind her left, and bent forward, while holding the hem of her skirt up an inch or two with her right hand.

Maria rolled her eyes at the old fashioned curtsey.

"You must be Miss Gonzalez," Mr. Wonka said, holding out his hand for Maria to shake, which she did.

"Yeah, we spoke over the phone, remember?" Maria said, still trying to get over Mr. Wonka's clothes.

"You'll forgive me for putting off your interview, dear lady, but I need to show Miss Rivera to the Art Department," Mr. Wonka told her, giving Maria a small glance, and turning his attention to Scarlett

"Sure, go ahead," Maria said, as she took a seat and retrieved a magazine from the table.

"Right this way, my lady," Mr. Wonka said, as he led Scarlett to a wooden door and opened it to reveal a long pink corridor.

Scarlett anxiously followed him through the bright pink corridor. With every twist and turn, the factory felt like a labyrinth.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Scarlett asked, and then regretted it when Mr. Wonka looked back at her in disbelief, causing her to nervously laugh. "Of course you do. It is your Factory."

"So, you decided to wear high heels," Mr. Wonka said, noticing her shoes. "You seem to balance much better in them today, than you did yesterday."

"Y'all remembered?" Scarlett said anxiously, as she felt herself becoming less balanced. "Now I'm back to having problems."

Scarlett just laughed it off, as Mr. Wonka gave her a charming smile and stopped in front of a large wooden door.

"Miss Rivera, when you were examining the coat hangers, you wondered what other surprises my Factory had in store," Mr. Wonka told her.

"Oh, you heard that," Scarlett said, turning bright red. "Of course you did. You saw me looking at them. So, I take it there's one big surprise behind this door?"

"What's beyond this door must be believed to be seen," Mr. Wonka said, as he opened the door to reveal a room that Scarlett could never imagine in her wildest dreams.

With lollipop trees, giant candy canes, and even bushes with tea cups, it was the most beautiful and bizarre room Scarlett ever saw. There was even a waterfall that poured into a river made of a dark brown substance, with men taking water from it and adding cream and sugar, or just sugar, to the dirty looking water. They looked happy to work in the factory of the eccentric chocolatier, which was good, because with Mr. Wonka's factory huge, and the town small, Mr. Wonka employed a good portion of the town's population. One of them, a skinny and pale freckled red-head, put a cigarette in his mouth and was about to light it until Mr. Wonka spoke up.

"Mr. Miller, what have I said about smoking in the factory?"

"Do it in the hallway, not in The Chocolate Room," Mr. Miller answered. "Sorry, Mr. Wonka."

"Especially not when you're near the chocolate river," Mr. Wonka continued. "Could you imagine if you got cigarette ashes in my chocolate?"

So that's what that water was. To Scarlett, it actually made sense.

"Right, of course, Mr. Wonka," the man said, as he left the room

"Places where you ain't allowed to smoke?" Scarlett asked, closing her eyes and inhaling the sweet aroma of candy. "It's a peculiar concept, but I can see why you wouldn't allow it in here."

"I take it you're quite impressed with this room, Miss Rivera," Mr. Wonka told her.

"I feel like I'm in Wonderland," Scarlett answered, in awe.

* * *

Maria flipped through an old copy of _Vogue_. Mr. Wonka had a decent magazine collection, for a weird guy. On the table next to the chair were fashion magazines, sports magazines, and some short story magazines. She even recognized a science fiction/fantasy magazine that Scarlett subscribed to, though it really wasn't Maria's thing. The only problem with Mr. Wonka's collection was that it was outdated. The issue of _Vogue_ in Maria's hands was from 1950. Then again, considering Mr. Wonka's taste in fashion, it was amazing that the issue was from this decade.

"Hello, Beautiful," an arrogant voice said.

Maria looked up from her magazine to see that the voice belonged to a well-dressed man, with a young, pretty-boy face, complete with an arrogant smirk, and sandy brown hair, groomed back from his forehead, showing a very noticeable widow's peak. He was of average height, with an athletic build, and held a lit cigarette in his mouth.

"The name's Maria," she told him disdainfully.

The man either didn't notice her tone, or pretended not to, because he still had that same irritating smirk as he took a long drag from his white stick.

"I'm Martin," he said, in a tone that suggested that people hung on his every word. "I make this Factory what it is."

"I thought I already met Willy Wonka," Maria said absentmindedly, as she held her hand out and examined her manicured fingernails covered in the same red polish as her lipstick.

"You're right, I'm not him, but I'm the reason his chocolate sells so well," Martin continued, in that same arrogant voice as before. He took the seat next to her. "Ask Wonka himself, and he'll tell you: 'If it weren't for Martin, I'd still be a poor man selling candy on the street.'"

Maria scooted as far away from the guy as she could. "How nice for you," she told him sardonically.

"Nice for you too, Beautiful," he told her with a smile. "You get to have dinner with the top salesman of Wonka Industries."

"Sorry, hon. I don't date married men," Maria told him with a hint of anger, as she indicated the wedding ring on his finger.

"What my wife doesn't know won't hurt her," Martin told her, putting his hand on her leg.

"My answer's still no," Maria said, taking his hand off her leg and glaring at him. What had she done to deserve this? And where was Scarlett? Or better yet, Wonka? The man better get back here soon, and call off his dog.

* * *

The Chocolate Room properly appreciated, Wonka had returned with Scarlett to the halls, passing room after room.

"Cows that give chocolate milk?" Scarlett said, reading a sign on one of the doors in the corridor. "It sounds impossible."

"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth," Mr. Wonka said.

"Sherlock Holmes," Scarlett said in recognition.

"Have you read that, or are you pretending you have?"

Scarlett ran her hand over her hair with a nervous laugh. "That, I've actually read."

"Really?" Mr. Wonka said, with a challenging smile, while leaning on his cane. "Sherlock Holmes' trademark outfit is his Inverness cape and deerstalker hat."

Scarlett laughed. "That's a common misconception," she said, putting her hand on her hip. "He only wore the deerstalker in the country. In town, in the evenings, he wore a top hat ... like yours."

With a smile, Mr. Wonka put a hand to his hat, before continuing the inquisition. "What was Watson's profession before he met Holmes?"

"Army surgeon, in Afghanistan. Sherlock Holmes figured that out when he shook his hand," Scarlett said, remembering how _A Study in Scarlet_ began.

"Isn't Watson just a fat man who just tagged along with Holmes and got in the way?" Mr. Wonka asked.

"No, Watson was of average intelligence, and a ladies man, who might have been married as many as three times," Scarlett said, pleased to show off her knowledge of the books. She always found Sherlock Holmes to be the sexier of the two, but Mr. Wonka didn't need to know that.

Mr. Wonka tipped his hat to her. "Congratulations, Miss Rivera, you passed."

"Thank you," Scarlett said, feeling a blush on her cheeks. "Would it be all right if I saw the cows?"

"Another time," Mr. Wonka told her, as they continued down the corridor, passing rooms such as "Hot Ice Cream for Cold Days."

"For people who crave ice cream on cold days," Mr. Wonka explained. "I also have 'Hot Ice Cubes for Hot Drinks.'"

Then they passed a room whose sign said: "Square Candies That Look Round."

"Ah yes, my 'Round Candies that Look Square,'" Mr. Wonka said proudly. "No, strike that, reverse it."

"What do you mean, 'they look round?'" Scarlett asked, curiosity overtaking her.

"See for yourself, dear lady," Mr. Wonka said, gesturing to the glass above the door.

Scarlett looked through the glass to see small white sugar cubes, with a pink smiley face, and eyeballs drawn on every single one.

"They're adorable!" Scarlett cooed. "But, if you don't mind me saying, they don't really look round."

Scarlett felt a presence behind her as Mr. Wonka whispered into her ear. "Watch." Then he knocked on the door. Scarlett could feel his warm breath on her skin. The candies eyeballs looked around, and Scarlett giggled.

"Oh, square candies that _look_ round," Scarlett said. "That's so cute!"

"Glad you think so," Mr. Wonka said, as Scarlett turned around, blushing when she realized just how close she was to Mr. Wonka. He took his hand off the door, backing away while maintaining his cool.

Once again, Scarlett followed him down the corridor, until they finally arrived at the Art Room.

"Now, dear lady, we've reached the final stop on our tour," Mr. Wonka said, with another charming smile. He took off his hat, and held it to his chest, but he didn't open the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Wonka," Scarlett said, and then added one more thing before she could stop herself. "You're very different from what I thought."

"Different in what way?" Mr. Wonka asked.

Scarlett gulped. Did she really have to say that out loud? "Just different," she told him nervously.

"In what way?" Mr. Wonka repeated, his bright blue eyes gazing into her dull brown ones.

"Well..." Scarlett began hesitantly. "Yesterday, you were a little rude."

"Ah, yes," Mr. Wonka said. "I'm terribly sorry about that, dear lady, but you caught me on a bad day."

Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief. "I guess now, I caught you on a good day."

"That you have, dear lady, that you have," Mr. Wonka said, as he turned to leave.

"Mr. Wonka," Scarlett said.

"Yes?"

"I-I was just wondering, if I was going to get my sketchbook back," Scarlett asked.

"You'll have that by the end of the day, Miss Rivera," Mr. Wonka said, and then he left.

Scarlett retrieved a cigarette from her purse and took one long puff from it as she stared at the door. Well, here goes nothing, Scarlett thought and then opened it.

* * *

As Willy made his way to the Cloak Room, he thought about Miss Rivera. In a strange way, she wasn't what he expected either, and not just with her artistic talents. She was fascinated with every detail of his Factory; from the coat hangers to the Chocolate Room, and, from what he'd overheard of her conversation with Miss Gonzalez, there was a dark side to this polite Southern Belle. He'd also got a whiff of her hair when they were looking at the Square Candies, and it had smelled like strawberries. Strawberries go well with chocolate.

Miss Gonzalez, on the other hand, seemed like just a pretty face, with nothing below the surface. She had no interest in the Factory's wonders, and immediately picked up a fashion magazine when she was told to wait. She was the type of woman Willy would have been all over when he was younger, and foolishly believed that a nice physical appearance was the equivalent of true beauty. Still, he needed a secretary, and, if Miss Gonzalez was qualified, she'd get the job. Willy was about to open the door to the Cloak Room, until he found himself coughing violently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? For those of you who haven't read the book, that's where the "Square Candies that Look Round" came from. It's also where I got the "Hot Ice Cream for Cold Days," "Hot Ice Cubes for Hot Drinks" and "Cows that Give Chocolate Milk." I hope I didn't make Willy Wonka seem like a creepy stalker, and, just so you know, there's no love between Willy Wonka and Scarlett right now. It's just a simple attraction, and I hope I did well with the chemistry. One last question, how short do you think a chapter should be? This chapter's slightly over six pages, but I feel like I should be writing them longer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Scarlett Rivera applies for a secretarial job under Willy Wonka, he hires her as an artist instead. Torn between society's beliefs and her own desires, she finds herself drawn to the charming and enigmatic chocolatier. Will Willy Wonka's world be too much for her, or will she learn to expect the unexpected? 1971!movie verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'd like to thank my beta-reader. If you recognize it from the Wonka community, I don't own it.
> 
> Warning: Suggested autoeroticism.

Maria heard violent coughing from behind the door, and saw Mr. Wonka open it while holding his hand to his mouth.

"You all right?" Maria asked.

Mr. Wonka just nodded his head and continued coughing into his hand, his eyes watering like mad.

"Mr. Wonka, I was just telling Maria what a privilege it is to work under the great candy man," Martin said.

"Water," Mr. Wonka wheezed, flashing Martin a look.

Maria immediately got some water from the water cooler in the corner of the room and gave the paper cup to Mr. Wonka, who downed it in one gulped. He handed the empty cup back to Maria.

"Thank you, Miss Gonzalez."

"No problem, Mr. Wonka," Maria said, throwing the paper cup into a nearby wastebasket.

"Mr. Anderson, shouldn't you be in the sales department?" Mr. Wonka said to Martin.

"Of course," Martin said, cheerfully. "I just thought that I'd help you make your new secretary feel welcome."

"Miss Gonzalez is not my secretary," Mr. Wonka said. "Not yet, anyway."

"Then I wish Miss Gonzalez the best of luck," Martin said in a humble tone that made Maria roll her eyes. "Now, I'm off to play my small part in maintaining this factory."

Mr. Wonka smiled. "Yes, Mr. Anderson, run along now. Your very small part makes you indispensable, elsewhere."

Martin left, leaving Maria alone with Mr. Wonka.

"Miss Gonzalez?" Mr. Wonka acknowledged, opening the door to his office.

Maria followed him inside and took the seat opposite Mr. Wonka's desk, recognizing Scarlett's sketchbook on top of it. Mr. Wonka took his seat at the desk and opened the sketchbook, looking at the drawings.

"So, Miss Gonzalez, what was your last job before coming here?" Mr. Wonka asked absentmindedly, as he took a cigar from the stand.

"I worked as a waitress at a diner," Maria answered, as Mr. Wonka calmly smoked his cigar, flipping through Scarlett's sketchbook.

After a few minutes of silence, Maria cleared her throat.

"Am I boring you, Miss Gonzalez?" Mr. Wonka asked, not taking his eyes off the book.

"I told you that my last job was working as a waitress, in a diner," Maria explained with slight exasperation.

"So you did, and that tells me you have no experience working as a secretary," Mr. Wonka stated between puffs.

Maria leaned back, and lit a cigarette. "Actually, I used to work as one, but I had to quit," she explained.

"In favor of waitressing?"

"No, I got married," Maria said, silently adding to herself that it was to a womanizing dog.

"There's no ring on your finger," Mr. Wonka pointed out.

"That's because I'm divorced," Maria said, bitterly. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Is that why you and Miss Rivera are now roommates?" Mr. Wonka asked, intrigued.

"That, and she's my best friend," Maria added.

"Interesting," Mr. Wonka said, perking up as he turned to face her. "How did you two meet?"

"I was working at the local library, and I saw her studying," Maria explained, taking a puff. "I took her under my wing, and we've been friends ever since."

"What do you mean, 'you took her under your wing'?" Mr. Wonka asked.

"Well, she was very shy and bookish," Maria explained, her voice taking on a warning tone. "I feel very protective of her."

"So, you and Scarlett both share a love of reading," Mr. Wonka stated.

"No, the only things I read in my free time are _Vogue_ and gossip columns," Maria said. "I needed a little extra spending money and the library was hiring."

"Extra spending money for what?" Mr. Wonka asked.

"I told you, I read _Vogue_ ," Maria said, waving her cigarette around. "Trying to keep up with the latest fashions is expensive."

"You took a second job so you could buy expensive clothes?" Mr. Wonka said, amused.

"Hey, looking good doesn't come cheap," Maria defended.

"Sorry, dear lady, I couldn't hear you over all of the absurdity in the hallway," Mr. Wonka said, continuing to look through Scarlett's sketchbook. "You and Miss Rivera seem very different, yet the two of you are friends."

"What can I say? She looks up to me," Maria said proudly, as she took another puff.

Mr. Wonka laughed, quickly turning it into a cough.

Maria smirked. "You know, it's weird that you'd ask so many questions about Scarlett while interviewing me."

"I'm sorry, dear lady, I'm a tad bit hard of hearing," Mr. Wonka responded. "Could you speak a little louder?"

"I said that it's strange that you'd ask so many questions about Scarlett," Maria said, innocently. "Just like it's strange that you keep looking in her sketchbook."

Mr. Wonka turned away from the sketchbook with a smile on his face. "Dear lady, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"I was just saying that, if you wanted to get on Scarlett's good side, she'd really appreciate it if you hired me," Maria suggested.

Mr. Wonka cleared his throat. "Thank you, Miss Gonzalez, I will consider hiring you."

"Thanks, hon, you won't regret this!" Maria exclaimed, about to leave.

"One more thing, Miss Gonzalez," Mr. Wonka said.

Maria stopped at the door. "Yes?"

"I need to call your previous employer."

"Sure," Maria said, grabbing a piece of paper from her purse. "I'll give you the Diner's number."

"Actually, I need to contact the person who employed you as a secretary," Mr. Wonka told her with a sneaky smile.

Maria gulped. "What?"

"Which word didn't you understand?"

"Mr. Wonka, is that really necessary?" Maria asked, nervously.

"Miss Gonzalez, if you expect me to hire you, I need to contact your previous employer," Mr. Wonka explained, calmly.

"Does it have to be the one I worked for as a secretary?" Maria asked, twirling her hair and smiling.

"Yes," Mr. Wonka told her absentmindedly.

Maria sighed, gave Mr. Wonka her old boss's number, and left. Great, in one day, she prostituted her best friend, and now Mr. Wonka was going to call her ex-husband. Well, that last one might not be so bad. Her ex-husband was in advertising, and anyone at the Agency would kill to get the Wonka account. As for Scarlett, she'd just have to see if Mr. Wonka's crush was one-sided. If it wasn't, that would make Maria a matchmaker. Maria folded her arms under her breasts and leaned against the wall, hoping that everything would work out.

* * *

Scarlett opened the door to see the walls changing to different colors of the rainbow, the art supplies arrayed like peacock feathers, and the table surrounded by well-dressed men, laughing and smoking.

"U-um, hello," Scarlett greeted quietly.

The men ignored her presence until Scarlett cleared her throat.

"Are you lost?" one of them asked.

"A-actually," Scarlett began nervously, "Mr. Wonka hired me to work here."

The entire group stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Here?" one of them said.

"Yes," Scarlett said, looking down at her feet. "I-is that a problem?"

"Ma'am, could you step outside for a minute while we, ah, confer?" one of them asked.

"S-sure," Scarlett said, stepping outside, and shutting the door.

Scarlett held her ear to the door in order to listen to what they were saying.

"A woman?" one of them exclaimed. "Has Wonka lost his mind?"

"And she's not even pretty!" another of them said. "What's Wonka smoking?"

Scarlett's eyes narrowed as she grabbed the doorknob and thought about barging in on those guys, and telling them what was going on in her head. Then she thought better of it. They were right, the Art Department was no place for a woman. It was like her mother always taught her, a woman's place was in the kitchen.

Scarlett felt tears roll down her cheeks as she walked along the hallway, trying to remember where the bathroom was, when she bumped into a tall, skinny redhead, knocking all his papers to the floor.

"Sorry," Scarlett said.

"That's okay," the man told her, as he scrambled for the papers on the floor. "Could you help me pick them up?"

"Sure," Scarlett said, picking up papers and smiling shyly, hoping the man didn't notice the water in her eyes. "I'm Scarlett."

"I remember you," he said. "You're that girl Mr. Wonka was showing around the Chocolate Room. I was the guy he caught trying to smoke."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Miller," Scarlett told him.

"Just call me Ryan," he said, as they finished collecting every last sheet of paper. "Thanks for your help, could you hand the rest of them to me?"

"Sure," Scarlett said and was about to until she read the first few sentences aloud. "'The robot felt its circuits— "

"I'll take that," Ryan said, blushing as he grabbed the papers from Scarlett's hands.

"Is this a short story?" Scarlett asked him.

"Yeah, it's a work in progress," Ryan said, hastily.

"It looks interesting," Scarlett told him.

"Thanks," he said. "Do you like sci-fi?"

"No," Scarlett lied. "But I know a good story when I see one."

"Thanks, I've got to get back to the Chocolate Room," Ryan told her. "And could you not tell Mr. Wonka about my story?"

"Um, sure," Scarlett said, wondering why Ryan would want to hide that from Mr. Wonka.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," Ryan said, as he left.

Scarlett watched him go, back to the Chocolate Room, where he worked for Mr. Wonka. She worked for Mr. Wonka. Her mother might tell her she belonged in the kitchen, but Mr. Wonka told her she belonged in the Art Department. She turned on her heel and walked down the hall. It was just too bad for her co-workers if the 'conference' wasn't over when she got back.

* * *

Willy dialed the number of Miss Gonzalez's former boss, and waited for him to pick up the phone.

"Euphoric Vision Advertising," the man answered. "What do you need?"

Willy rolled his eyes. It just had to be an Ad Agency. "Are you—" Willy looked at the paper in his hands. "Daniel Brown?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"My name is Willy Wonka and—"

"Wait a minute!" Mr. Brown interrupted. "You're Willy Wonka? _The_ Willy Wonka?"

"Last time I checked, yes. I was—"

"Tell me, sir, are you satisfied with your current advertisers?"

Great, another vulture wanting to cash in on his profits.

"I don't really have any current advertisers," Mr. Wonka answered. "However, I was—"

"Then how would you like to sign up for Euphoric Vision Advertising?" Mr. Brown said. "I guarantee that, with us—"

"Actually, I was calling about your former secretary, Maria Gonzalez," Mr. Wonka interrupted, before the vulture could further antagonize him.

"You mean my ex-wife," Mr. Brown said, bitterly. "What about her?"

"She just interviewed to become my secretary, and I was wondering what your opinion of her is," Willy said.

"She's a hispanic Marilyn Monroe," Mr. Brown explained. "She makes a nice decoration, and she knows quite a few 'bedroom tricks'."

"So you didn't hear the word 'secretary'? I'm a little deaf myself, but it doesn't bode well for your firm that you can't hear the question your potential client is asking. Shall we see if the second time's the charm? How is she as a secretary?" Willy asked exasperated.

"Well, she's got looks and talent. Only problem is, she doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut," Mr. Brown said bitterly.

"So, she's competent?" Willy asked.

"Yeah, she takes the phone calls and can organize your files," Mr. Brown said. "I was sorry she had to quit when we got married, but it was for the best. I mean, who wants a working wife?"

Mr. Brown laughed.

"Thank you, Mr. Brown, that was all I needed to hear," Willy told him and hung up before Mr. Brown could try to recruit him.

He went to the waiting room to see Miss Gonzalez sitting on a chair filing her nails.

"Miss Gonzalez, you have the job," Mr. Wonka told her.

Miss Gonzalez shot up. "Thanks, sweetie!"

Willy cringed at more than the nickname, wondering if he was a little hasty hiring her.

* * *

Scarlett's first day on the job was interesting, to say the least. The workers in her department treated her more like a secretary than a co-worker, assigning her tasks such as getting them all coffee. She tried to stand up to them, but she had trouble putting her thoughts into words. However, she did run into Ryan a few times and he seemed to be an interesting man. Now, it was time to go home, and Scarlett stopped by Mr. Wonka's office.

"Looks like you got the job," Scarlett observed, seeing Maria at the desk outside Mr. Wonka's office door.

"Yeah, as long as I never file my nails in public in this factory again. You here to congratulate me?" Maria said, smiling.

"Actually, I'm here to see Mr. Wonka," Scarlett told her. "But congratulations!"

"Thank you!" Maria said, pointing to the door. "You'll find Mr. Wonka at his desk."

Scarlett knocked on the door.

"Come in," Mr. Wonka called.

Scarlett entered to see Mr. Wonka looking over some papers on his desk.

"Mr. Wonka," Scarlett began hesitantly.

Mr. Wonka turned to see her and smiled. "Miss Rivera, how was your first day?"

"Fine," Scarlett lied, feeling her heartbeat quicken. "I was actually wondering if I could get my sketchbook back."

"Sure," Mr. Wonka said, taking her sketchbook from on top of his desk and handing it to her.

"Thank you, Mr. Wonka," Scarlett said, holding it to her chest. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Actually, there was one more thing I wanted you to talk to you about," Mr. Wonka told her, looking through the right-hand lower drawer of his desk. "Remember when you told me that you've never read _Gone With The Wind_?"

"You mean when I pretended that I did because I thought it would get me the job," Scarlett said, blushing.

"Well, I happen to have a copy of that book," Mr. Wonka told her, as he pulled a copy of _Gone With The Wind_ from the drawer. "And I was wondering if you'd like to read it."

"Sure, I'd love to!" Scarlett exclaimed.

Mr. Wonka handed her the book, and Scarlett felt warm fingers brush against her own.

"Thank you," Scarlett said, feeling her face go scarlet. "I'll be sure to give it back to you when I'm done."

"It's not a problem, dear lady," Mr. Wonka told her, in a suave tone. "Good day, Miss Rivera."

"Good day, Mr. Wonka," Scarlett said, holding the book in her left hand, and reaching for the door with her right. "I hope I see you tomorrow."

Scarlett left to see Maria near the door, and quickly shut it.

"What were you doing outside Mr. Wonka's door?"

Maria laughed as she ran her fingers through her hair. "Just wanted to make sure he wasn't acting like a jerk."

"He's not a jerk!" Scarlett defended, as she placed Mr. Wonka's book in her purse. "He's a true gentleman."

"Really?" Maria said, with a smirk. "Do tell."

"Well, first he showed me the Chocolate Room," Scarlett explained.

"The Chocolate Room?"

"It was swell!" Scarlett said dreamily, as she took her raincoat and hat from the hangars. "The room was made entirely out of candy, and the river was pure chocolate!"

"You're serious?" Maria asked skeptically, as she took her own raincoat and hat from the hangars.

"Yeah, didn't he show you?" Scarlett asked.

"No, as soon as Mr. Wonka gave me the job, he just had me sit at my desk," Maria explained. "Guess he didn't think showing his secretary around was necessary. So, Chocolate Room, keep going."

"Then he showed me his Square Candies that Look Round!" Scarlett exclaimed, as they left the factory.

"'Square Candies that Look Round'?" Maria said, confused.

"They're little square candies with eyeballs that look around the room," Scarlett explained.

"Still not following."

"They look round, as in 'Square Candies that Look Round'," Scarlett explained as they walked to their car. "It was so cute!"

"Yeah, sure," Maria said absentmindedly, still in the dark, but not caring.

"Then we talked about Sherlock Holmes!"

"The guy with the deerstalker cap?" Maria asked.

"He rarely wears that hat," Scarlett explained, exasperated, as they finally got to the car.

"You're the nerd," Maria said, as Scarlett looked through her purse for her keys. "Forget it, I'm driving."

Maria held her hands out for the keys.

"No way, it's my car!" Scarlett responded, angrily.

"The way you drive it, I'm surprised you still have a car," Maria remarked. "Or a license."

"I'm not that bad!" Scarlett defended, as she pulled out the keys.

"Tell you what, I'll drive the car and you can give me all the juicy details about your crush on the candy man," Maria teased.

"I don't have a crush on Mr. Wonka!"

"Your face is red, you haven't shut up about him, and you act like you're walking on air," Maria pointed out. "Trust me, honey, those are all signs of a crush."

"That's ridiculous!" Scarlett exclaimed, unlocking the driver's door. "What sort of woman gets a crush on her boss?"

Maria cleared her throat angrily.

Scarlett laughed nervously. "Present company excluded, of course," As an apology, Scarlett handed Maria the keys. "You want to drive?"

* * *

Scarlett lay in her light-pink bed, her head resting on the pillows, wearing nothing but her full white body slip as she read _Gone With The Wind_. When Mr. Wonka told her that Scarlett O'Hara wasn't beautiful, she wondered how so many men could fall for her. Then the book explained that Scarlett O'Hara had a charm about her that made many men forget that she wasn't beautiful. Scarlett Rivera wondered if she might have that same kind of charm, and if she did, could she make it work on Mr. Wonka?

Where did that thought come from? Mr. Wonka was her boss. If he knew she was thinking about running her fingers through his curly blond hair, his body warm against hers, inhaling the sweet smell of chocolate as her lips touched his hungrily, and then...

He would think she was disgusting! Scarlett tried to concentrate on the book, but she ended up thinking impure thoughts about Mr. Wonka. No, she had to read. Reading would get these thoughts out of her head! It didn't though, and she put Mr. Wonka's book on the nightstand when she realized what she had to do. It was unbecoming of a lady, but, she told herself, trying to be the good little girl her mother wanted her, warned her, to be, it would be for the last time. Then Scarlett could get back to her book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, what do you think? For those of you who've read How Bad Could It Be, that is the same Ryan that hangs out with Kat and Maria and runs the coffee shop. I told you that I reuse some of my OCs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Scarlett Rivera applies for a secretarial job under Willy Wonka, he hires her as an artist instead. Torn between society's beliefs and her own desires, she finds herself drawn to the charming and enigmatic chocolatier. Will Willy Wonka's world be too much for her, or will she learn to expect the unexpected? 1971!movie verse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: You know how I said that Scarlett graduated from Columbia University in the first chapter? Well, I recently discovered that, at the time, Columbia didn't accept women. So, I had to make a small change. Feel free to check it out.
> 
> I commissioned PinkPrincessTaylor from deviantart to do a portrait of Scarlett. Amelka-Wonka-Kitty from deviantart also drew Scarlett with Willy, and created a photoshopped picture of the two of them together. I don't agree with the actress she picked, but she couldn't find good pictures of the actress I imagine. I'd like to thank my beta-reader. If you recognize it from the Wonka community, I don't own it.

Wearing a pink blouse with a red skirt, Maria sat at her desk outside Wonka's office, and looked at her nails. She couldn't help but notice that there was a little bit of dead skin. Maria got a pair of tiny scissors from her purse and was about to cut it off, when she heard a man clear his throat. She turned around to see Wonka standing nearby, holding out his hand.

"Miss Gonzalez, what did I say when I hired you?" Wonka asked, looking at the scissors with disapproval.

"You said, 'dear lady, if I catch you filing your nails again, you will be filing them at your next job interview,'" Maria said, doing her best imitation of Wonka's speech and manner, then quickly returning to her own. "But you didn't say anything about cutting off dead skin."

"I assumed your feeble mind would comprehend that I meant using all nail care products," Wonka said, with an arrogant smirk, as Maria handed him all of her nail care products. "Thank you, Miss Gonzalez. Now would you be so kind as to make me a cup of tea?"

"I would, but I'm so _feeble-minded_ that I can't figure out how to work that thing with the thing you pour hot stuff out of," Maria said, sweetly, moving her arms around like a complete bimbo.

"I have faith that you can figure out this simple process," Wonka said, maintaining his arrogance. "Like eschewing public nail care, it's a requirement of keeping your job."

"Let me put this another way," Maria said, returning to her tough voice. "I don't do tea."

"I can't imagine how you plan to work here if you refuse to do the work associated with your position," Wonka said, slightly annoyed.

"You plan on firing me?" Maria asked innocently, as she examined her nails. "I don't think Scarlett would like that."

"I'm sure she'll understand after I explain how you deliberately refuse to be productive," Wonka countered. "Or perhaps, I'll just send Mr. Anderson to assist you, instead."

Maria turned to Wonka in alarm. "You wouldn't."

"Would you like to find out?" Wonka said, pleased to have gotten the upper-hand.

"How do you take your tea?" Maria asked, shooting up from her seat.

"Earl Gray, very hot, no cream, no sugar. I'm sweet enough as I am. Be sure to use loose leaves instead, of bags."

* * *

Another day at work,and Scarlett, wearing a blue blouse with a green skirt, was back at the coffee machine. If this was how her job would go, maybe Mr. Wonka should've just hired her as a secretary, instead of putting her through all this. She quickly reminded herself that it was the men of the Art Department who didn't take her seriously, not Mr. Wonka.

Breaking into Scarlett's thoughts, Maria arrived, and began looking through the cupboards.

"What are you looking for?" Scarlett asked.

"A tea infuser, tea strainer, and Earl Gray leaves."

"That's disgusting!" Scarlett said, turning up her nose. "Who would drink that?"

"Wonka," Maria said nonchalantly, as she pulled a tea infuser out of the cupboard.

"Oh," Scarlett said, blushing as she looked around to make sure Mr. Wonka wasn't nearby.

"So, why are you out here?" Maria asked, pulling tea leaves out of the cupboard and placing them next to the infuser.

"Well, I thought I'd make myself useful in my department," Scarlett said, continuing to watch the coffee steam.

"You mean, other than drawing and contributing your ideas?"

"They weren't interested in hearing what I had to say," Scarlett said, slightly bitter.

"Maybe you need to stand up for yourself," Maria suggested, putting water in the kettle.

"I've tried. They just laugh in my face," Scarlett said, bitterly. "Maybe my mom's right. Women have no business getting involved in a man's world."

Maria put her hand on her hip. "Your mom... You mean the woman with the creepy smile who was never seen without a glass of wine in her hand?" she asked, sarcastically.

"It was grape juice," Scarlett said, defensively.

"Honey, I don't know if you're naive or in denial," Maria said, turning off the stove when she heard the kettle whistle. "It was grape juice all right... fermented."

"Are you going somewhere with this?" Scarlett said, slightly angry.

"What I'm saying is that nothing will change if you don't stand up for—" Maria began, until she saw Martin come in. "You didn't see me." She ran straight for the storage closet and shut the door.

"Hi, Martin," Scarlett said, quietly.

"Hello, um," Martin said, getting a coffee cup and taking no further notice of her.

"Scarlett."

"Right, Maria's friend," Martin said, pouring coffee into his cup.

"Martin, don't—" Scarlett began.

"Don't what?" Martin asked, as he drank from his cup.

"Never mind."

Martin left without giving Scarlett a single look.

"You can come out now, Maria, he's gone," Scarlett told her. "So, what was that you were saying about standing up for yourself."

"¿Qué dijo ella? Una mejor pregunta... ¿Qué digo? Haz lo que digo, no lo que hago." a suave voice said from the door.

Scarlett turned around. The voice belonged to Mr. Wonka.

"M-Mr. Wonka," Scarlett said, feeling herself losing her balance.

"Miss Rivera," Mr. Wonka said, tipping his hat to her.

Scarlett put her hand on the counter, blushing like mad.

"I-I was just relaxing," Scarlett explained, feeling her heart pound. "Not that I'm slacking off on the job. I-I-I just find that I think better with coffee in my system. Y-you—"

"Miss Rivera, there is no need to explain yourself to me," Mr. Wonka said, with a charming smile. "Though I find it most curious that you're here instead of with the Art Department."

"W-well, I—" Scarlett began, and quickly changed the subject. "What you said, earlier. What did it mean?"

"It means 'do as I say, not as I do'," Maria said, putting the dried tea leaves in the cup. "What I'm wondering, is why he made me get him tea when he was planning on coming here himself."

"I was simply on my way to test out a new invention," Mr. Wonka explained, ignoring Maria and focusing his attention on Scarlett. "Perhaps, you'd like to come with me."

"M-me?" Scarlett said, her hand slipping. "I-I mean, o-o-of course, p-provided that I'm not disturbing you."

Scarlett's hand brushed against a glass of water. She heard a clank that made her turn around, and saw she had accidentally knocked it over.

"As soon as I clean up this mess," Scarlett said, blushing like mad.

"No, I'll handle it," Maria said, giving Scarlett a knowing smirk and then getting a rag. "You two go have fun."

* * *

"The Observatory Room?" Scarlett said, reading the door. "Quite a strange room for a chocolate factory." Scarlett anxiously ran her fingers through her hair. "Not that I'm judging or anything. I mean, you do like to think outside the box. I mean—"

"Dear lady, how do you plan on discovering what the room holds if you never enter it?" Mr. Wonka asked.

"Right, of course," Scarlett said, still hesitant to touch the door.

Mr. Wonka smiled at Scarlett and opened it for her, gesturing for Scarlett to enter. When she saw the room, she couldn't believe her eyes. All the room held was a balcony, surrounded by a metal railing, and a counter, with a bag of sand on it. The surprising thing the room also contained, was the night sky.

"How's this possible?" Scarlett asked, in awe. "It's still daylight outside."

"My dear, after seeing the Chocolate Room, are you questioning the reality in my Factory?" Mr. Wonka asked, slightly irritated, as he put his cane to the side.

"Right, of course," Scarlett said, laughing nervously as Mr. Wonka pulled a clump of sand out of the bag.

"Hold out your hands," Mr. Wonka ordered.

Scarlett obeyed, and watched Mr. Wonka pour some of the sand in her hands.

"I'm guessing this is some new type of candy," Scarlett said, nervously. "Of course, you're the Candy Man."

"I prefer the term 'confectionist'," Mr. Wonka said, annoyed.

"Confectionist, right," Scarlett said, apologetically, as she gazed at the dust in her hand. Why was nothing going right today?

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what is this?" Scarlett said.

"Why show you, when I can tell you?" Mr. Wonka said, mysteriously. "No, strike that, reverse it."

Mr. Wonka lightly blew on the dust in the palm of his hand, leaving Scarlett to watch in amazement as it formed an ethereal trail of light. When the trail reached the ceiling, it transformed into a constellation of stars.

"Your turn," Mr. Wonka told her.

Scarlett blew on the dust in her hand and watched it form into stars as it touched the ceiling.

"It's beautiful," Scarlett said, hypnotized by the mystique of the phenomena.

"I call them candy stars," Mr. Wonka explained. "They're for children who wish to sleep under the stars, without leaving the safety and comfort of their own bedrooms."

Scarlett gazed up at the stars and took notice of something strange. "Mr. Wonka?"

"Yes, Miss Rivera?" Mr. Wonka responded, turning his attention to her.

"This might sound strange, but I've noticed," Scarlett began, nervously putting her hands to the side.

"Noticed what?" Mr. Wonka asked, as he retrieved his cane.

"I noticed that the constellations the stars formed look remarkably similar to Van Gogh's painting, _The Starry Night_."

"Similarities like that have been known to occur," Mr. Wonka said thoughtfully. "Were you, perhaps, thinking about that painting when you helped form the stars?"

"I was," Scarlett breathed, meeting Mr. Wonka's eyes. "Can these candies read your mind?"

"Partially," Mr. Wonka explained. "They can sense your emotions. How are you feeling?"

Scarlett wanted to say fine, but that wasn't what came out of her mouth.

"Not well," Scarlett began, hesitantly. "Mr. Wonka, I think you might have made a mistake."

"Mistake? What mistake?" Mr. Wonka asked, as if the concept were foreign to him.

"By hiring me as an artist," Scarlett said, refusing to meet Mr. Wonka's eyes.

"A woman, with self-doubt, forms a similar star pattern drawn by a man who was unappreciated in his time," Mr. Wonka said, gazing at the stars. "A man who said, if I'm not mistaken, 'If you hear a voice within you say "you cannot paint," then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.'"

Scarlett smiled at Mr. Wonka's words, but her smile instantly vanished. "Mr. Wonka, Van Gogh's situation was a little different."

"Different? In what way?" Mr. Wonka asked.

"Van Gogh's a man," Scarlett explained, looking at the stars. "I'm a woman."

"Really?" Mr. Wonka said, sarcastically. "Where were you hiding this important information?"

"My skirt and makeup didn't clue you in?" Scarlett said, with equal sarcasm before she could stop herself. "I mean, a woman as no right interfering in a man's world."

"Nellie Bly would disagree with you," Mr. Wonka said, putting his hands behind his back and gazing at the stars.

"Who?"

"A woman who didn't allow society to get between her and what she wanted," Mr. Wonka explained. "When a man wrote an article explaining why women couldn't be journalists, she wrote a fierce rebuttal explaining why that article was wrong."

Scarlett knew how this story would end. Nellie Bly got to be a reporter and lived happily ever after. Just like the women in the fairy tales her mother read her, except they got what they wanted by acting like proper women.

"How did it turn out?" Scarlett asked.

"The editor was so impressed, he offered her another opportunity to prove herself," Mr. Wonka explained. "Then he hired her."

Scarlett looked at the stars in the sky. "That's her. That's not me."

"Why can't it be you?" Mr. Wonka asked, encouragingly.

"Because it ain't done," Scarlett said, matter-of-factly.

"You're fired," Mr. Wonka said in an angry tone.

"What?" Scarlett said, looking into Mr. Wonka's fury filled eyes with shock.

"If all you do is stand to the side and whimper like a coward, you have no business working in my factory!" Mr. Wonka told her, his anger becoming more evident. "You have no talent as a secretary, and you certainly have no talent as an artist!"

"I'm not a coward," Scarlett muttered, in a quiet rage.

"Speak up!" Mr. Wonka demanded.

"I'm not a coward!" Scarlett said, clenching her fists in rage. "And you hired me because you liked my artwork!"

Mr. Wonka laughed cruelly. "Real art takes honesty and courage, qualities you will always lack!"

"That's rich! Coming from a guy who doesn't speak his mind!" Scarlett found herself yelling.

"What?" Mr. Wonka asked, not sure he'd heard her right.

"You heard me! You mumble like crazy!" Scarlett continued, feeling every bit of anger pour out of her. "And while we're on the subject of honesty, how about you tell people when you have a problem with them, instead of putting on an act, while writing what you really feel on a piece of paper, and mumbling it loud enough for everyone to hear!"

"Listen, you—" Mr. Wonka began.

"No, you listen!" Scarlett interrupted, feeling like her body was possessed by an angry spirit. "Ever since I came here, I've had to put up with a ton of bullshit about how I don't belong in the Art Department and I'm sick of it!"

Mr. Wonka eyed her coldly.

"And I'm telling you, dear lady, tell them, or leave, and if you leave, don't come back. You're wasting my time, and your breath, saying what you're saying to me."

Scarlett felt her world fall away from her, the stars above her head making her dizzy. But she took Mr. Wonka at his word. She had no choice. He'd already left, and his amazing factory was one place she dearly didn't want to leave.

* * *

"—And furthermore, Mr. Wonka hired me to work here because I'm talented and, if you people don't like it, that's tough! If you want me to actually contribute to your work, then ask me for help, but find someone else to get your coffee and snacks!" Scarlett said and took a deep breath as she looked at the faces of the men staring at her. She imagined it must have been quite comical to them for a petite woman, like herself, to be yelling so fiercely.

To her surprise, a man with groomed back, jet black hair, laughed. "All right, let's see what you've got."

* * *

The rest of the day went much more smoothly, with Scarlett contributing ideas, and even laughing, nervously, at some of the things they said. When Scarlett talked to Mr. Wonka about her outburst earlier, he acted as if it had never happened, only asking if he would see her tomorrow.

Now, back at home, Scarlett was sitting at the dining room table, going over the whole day in her head, while Maria heated up leftovers from Thanksgiving in the oven.

"After this, all we'll have is enough turkey to make a couple of sandwiches for lunch tomorrow," Maria said, pulling the food out of the oven, and separating it on plates.

"Sounds good," Scarlett said, absentmindedly.

"You're awfully quiet," Maria observed, putting the food down on the table. "What's on your mind?"

"Do you think men have more freedom than women?" Scarlett asked.

"Honey, that's a stupid question," Maria said, taking a bite. "Of course men have more freedom."

"It's just that, the things the men in my department were saying... Women would never say such things," Scarlett said, picking up her fork.

"What were they saying," Maria asked, intrigued.

"Ya'll really don't want to hear it," Scarlett said, taking a bite of her turkey.

"Sweetie, I grew up in a working-class Costa Rican neighborhood," Maria reassured her. "I think I can handle it."

"Well, they started... One of them brought up..." Scarlett said, trying to think best about how to describe the vulgar conversation. "They talked about all the secretaries they'd like to have affaires with. Your name came up, a lot."

"Sounds more interesting than the conversations I was having. The secretarial pool talked my ear off about cookie recipes, and which vacuum cleaner is best," Maria said nonchalantly, as she kept her eye on her food. Then she turned her full attention to Scarlett. "Wait a minute. They talked about that in front of you?"

"Yeah. why? Does it matter?" Scarlett asked, keeping her attention on her food.

"Men never talk about stuff like that in front of women," Maria said, proudly. "It means you're one of the guys."

Scarlett gazed in Maria's eyes, shocked. "What?"

"It means that they feel comfortable enough around you that they're okay with talking vulgar when you're in the room," Maria explained.

"I know what it means," Scarlett said, still in shock. "I just need time to comprehend it."

"What did you do to make them change their minds about you?" Maria asked.

"Well," Scarlett began, taking a bite of stuffing. "Mr. Wonka showed me his candy star invention."

"Candy stars?" Maria asked, skeptically.

"It's dust that forms into stars," Scarlett explained. "You'd have to see it to believe it."

"Right," Maria said, uncaring. "So, what happened when he was showing you the star candy?"

"Well, when I blew on it, it turned into _The Starry Night_ ," Scarlett explained, recalling the scene in her head.

"What?" Maria asked, ignorantly.

"It's a painting by Vincent Van Gogh," Scarlett explained.

"Still don't know what you're talking about," Maria said, taking a bite of stuffing.

"Do you want to hear the story, or not?" Scarlett asked, impatiently.

"All right, sorry, I won't interrupt anymore," Maria said, exasperated.

"Well, he figured out that I wasn't in the best of moods, and I told him that he made a mistake hiring a woman for the Art Department," Scarlett said, taking a bite of the vegetables. "Then, he talked about Nellie Bly." Scarlett could tell by the look on Maria's face that she wanted to ask who that was, but Maria held her tongue. "Then, he threatened to fire me and said I didn't have what it took to make it as an artist. I got so mad, I started yelling my head off, and Mr. Wonka left, and then I went back to the Art Department, and finished my rant. The next thing you know, they're listening to my ideas, and treating me like part of the team."

"And that's how you earned their respect," Maria said, beaming with pride.

"It's how I became one of the guys," Scarlett said, knowingly.

* * *

Later, Scarlett thought about her conversation with Maria during dinner. "One of the guys." No matter how many times she repeated the phrase in her head, she still couldn't believe it. Mostly because her feelings were mixed. Maria assured her being privy to vulgar conversations about members of her sex meant they respected her, but at the time, listening to them, it had felt more like _dis_ -respect. They were talking about women—and she was a woman—as if they were toys... or worse, meat.

Scarlett sighed, wondering. Maybe those women they were talking about did it to themselves. The men clearly didn't see them as marriage material. Scarlett reminded herself that the men mentioned Maria quite a bit. Was she just a harlot who deserved to be treated like an object? Scarlett mentally slapped herself. How could she think of her own best friend that way? Then again, Maria didn't seem to mind.

Or maybe, like excluding her on her first day, or sending her to fetch their coffee, speaking vulgarly in front of her was another ploy by the men to make her feel worthless, and uncomfortable? Maybe even make her leave? Scarlett sighed, knowing one thing. If this was a ploy, it wouldn't work. And if she didn't know exactly how to feel about it, she did know one other thing. Her mother wasn't going to like this.

Scarlett finished brushing her teeth and spit into the sink. Well, she just wouldn't tell her. It wouldn't be the first time Scarlett kept secrets from her own mother. After all, if you couldn't marry a man, become one. Scarlett felt a pang of despair go through her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The candy stars came from Sonata IX and her fanfic, Chocolate Ladybugs. Nellie Bly is a real reporter and I got that information from wikipedia. I also have a video on youtube for Unexpected, showing the actors I have picked, so far, for my OCs.
> 
> Would you like to give your OC a cameo in my fanfic? Just review and I'll figure out how to make that possible! Though, we might have to discuss the details through PMing


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my beta-reader. I have great news! I opened up commissions and art trades on deviantart! See my profile for details. The offer for cameos is still available. So far, I only have one from artycomicfangirl. I also have original fiction in the works that I was able to post on this website because it's about Greek Gods. Check it out, if you want to.
> 
> If you recognize it from the Wonka Community, I don't own it.

Walter, the head of the Art Department, set his fedora and trench coat on the hat rack, the hands that grabbed them making him shiver. Then he heard an arrogant laugh.

"Those things still freak you out?" said an obnoxious voice that could only belong to Martin.

"I'm telling you, those hangars are alive," Walter defended. "The way those _things_ behave... It's not natural."

"Since when has Wonka ever been natural?" Martin scoffed, as he watched the hanger grab his coat.

"I swear, one day I'll quit," Walter began, entering a dreamlike state. "Grab my family and leave. Move to California and—"

"—Get a job as one of Walt Disney's animators," Martin finished, tired of hearing Walter's mantra. His hat joined his coat on the hangar. "You do realize that you'd just be trading one nut for another?"

"At least Walt Disney's company looks normal," Walter said, putting the end of a cigarette between his lips. "Not like the circus around here."

"If the circus pays you well, why complain?" Martin said, looking for his own pack of cigarettes with his right hand. He snapped the fingers on his left hand. "Oh, I get what this is about."

"All right, 'genius'. In your expert opinion, what is this about?" Walter asked, amused.

"Simple, it's about that girl Wonka put in your department," Martin said proudly, as if he'd discovered the cure for cancer.

"Girl?" Walter said, confused as he tried to remember everyone who worked in his department. Then it dawned on him. "Oh, you mean Scarlett."

"Oh, that's her name?" Martin said, as he put the end of a cigarette between his lips.

"Actually, she's not so bad," Walter said, searching frantically for his lighter.

Martin stared at Walter as if he had told him that there was life on Mars.

"Are you serious?"

"I'll admit, at first I didn't take her seriously, and then she storms in and demands she be treated like a worker," Walter said, lighting his cigarette. "So, that's what we did."

"I'm guessing that didn't go well," Martin said bitterly, lighting his cigarette. "You know girls, always throwing fits over a few harmless jokes."

"Actually, she laughed along with us," Walter recounted, as he took a puff.

Martin laughed hysterically, which turned into violent coughing. "Don't tell me she's actually trying to be one of the guys?" he said, while leaning back against the wall to the left of the hands.

"If a girl can act like a man, I think she deserves a spot among us," Walter said nonchalantly.

"Girls acting like men," Martin said, disgusted, as he casually smoked his cigarette. "Next thing you know, we'll have dogs walking humans."

"Considering this factory, I wouldn't be surprised if that happened tomorrow," Walter said, only half-jokingly.

"Even here, there's a certain order of things," Martin said seriously, as he grabbed water from the cooler. "Humans walk dogs, men work the jobs and provide for their families and mistresses, while women take care of us, our possessions, and if we let them, spend our money."

Walter laughed. "I'll take a female co-worker over Wonka's crazy hangers any day."

"Speaking of females," Martin said, watching Maria leave the women's restroom, "I think I just spotted the factory's newest exotic flower."

Martin wiggled his eyebrows at Maria, who gave an exasperated sigh and turned her head away from him in disgust.

"Nice going, Casanova," Walter said mockingly.

"She's just playing hard to get," Martin said confidently. "A few more tries and she'll be putty in my hands."

"Or, more likely, she'll get one of her other beaus to beat you up," Walter said sardonically.

"Watch and learn, my friend," Martin told Walter, as he was making his way to Maria.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Walter warned, as he got himself some water. "Remember what Wonka said about you hitting on his secretaries?"

"If he loses another secretary because of me, I can find a new job as his personal confectionary tester," Martin said mockingly. "You do realize Wonka was bluffing,"

"Really?" Walter asked, amused. "You'd risk becoming the confectionary tester over some girl? Because you think Wonka won't act on the threat?" Walter made a tsking sound. "Personally, I've never known Wonka to bluff."

"Yeah, well forget that. I'm his top salesman!" Martin boasted. "Which makes me too valuable to his precious factory for him to get rid of me."

"He could always make do with second best," Walter remarked

"Mark my words, Wonka removes me from sales and his whole company crumbles," Martin said arrogantly, earning a smirk and a sarcastic "Sure" from Walter. "Besides, if Wonka doesn't want me hitting on his secretaries, then he needs to hire ugly ones."

"It's because of you Wonka has to hire new secretaries in the first place," Walter pointed out. "Remember what happened with the last one?"

"You mean that whore who thought I was leaving my wife?" Martin said, snickering, and then cringed at the memory. "The one that got drunk and yelled at me in front of everyone?"

"That's the one," Walter said, taking a sip of his water. "The one I call, 'Why I never get involved with the girls I work with, Exhibit A,'"

"Yeah," Martin countered. "Because you prefer picking up trash at a bar."

"Say what you want about bar wenches... At least they don't expect you to leave your wife," Walter said, as he took the last sip of his water, crumbled the empty paper cup as if it, not Martin, had offended him, and left for his work.

* * *

After a hectic morning, and navigating through the maze that was Willy Wonka's factory, Scarlett finally made it to the Break Room.

"I'm telling you, my wife loves that thing, sometimes I think more than she loves me," one of the men at the table said with a laugh. "Even if it doesn't do her any good."

"Great, another marketing scam that our sweethearts expect us to shell out money for," another one said, as Scarlett reached the refrigerator.

"Maybe they actually work," another man said. "I mean, if Wonka can come up with a chewing gum that never loses its flavor, a weight loss belt doesn't seem that far-fetched."

"Let's ask an expert," the head of the Art Department, who Scarlett knew as Walter said. Walter turned his attention to Scarlett as she was opening the refrigerator door. "Hey, Scarlett, you're a girl, right?"

"Once upon a time," Scarlett said nervously, wondering how these guys could miss something as obvious as which side of puberty she was on.

"Do those vibrating weight loss belts do any good? I'm thinking about getting my wife one for Christmas."

 _Great, get your wife a weight loss belt,_ Scarlett thought. _While you're at it, why don't you get her a diet plan?_

Aloud, she said, "I've tried those things. I don't really think they help you lose weight," Before she could stop herself, she added, "but they do have another use."

"Really, like what?"

It was one of the other guys wanting to know, but if he didn't already know, she sure wasn't going to tell him.

"Nothing, never mind!" Scarlett said quickly, feeling embarrassed as she opened the refrigerator door to search for her lunch. Her lunch was nowhere in sight. "Do any of you know what happened to my sandwich?"

"Was it the turkey sandwich topped with gravy?"

"Yes, why?"

The refrigerator muffled her voice, and also the snickers from the men around the table.

Unaware, Scarlett scattered items all around her, until it hit her. She pulled her head out of the refrigerator and turned to the men. "Did one of you eat my sandwich?"

"Guilty as charged," one of them said, raising his hand while the rest of them laughed louder.

"You ate my sandwich?" Scarlett said, fury rising through her.

"Yeah, your lunch looked better than mine," the guy said. "I couldn't help myself."

"You ate my sandwich!" Scarlett said, her fury getting stronger.

"Calm down," the guy said, "It's just a sandwich."

"It was _my_ sandwich!" Scarlett said, putting her hands on her hips. "You don't steal someone else's food!"

"Thanks for the words of wisdom, 'Mom'," Walter told her, as everyone else laughed. "If you're so upset about it, you can have my lunch."

"I don't want your lunch!" Scarlett exclaimed.

"Try to do a good deed and she blows up at me," Walter said, as he shrugged his shoulders.

"I threw most of it away," the guy who took the sandwich said, with a smirk. "If you're really desperate, you can dig around in the garbage."

"YOU THREW MY SANDWICH IN THE GARBAGE?" Scarlett exclaimed.

The guys just laughed at her.

"One sandwich and little Miss 'Southern Belle's' ready to explode," Walter said jokingly.

Scarlett got her purse out of the closet.

A couple of the quieter men looked worried, and the culprit took the hint. His smirk turned into a jeer, and he took his cue from his boss.

"Ooh, little Miss Southern Belle is probably off to tattle to Wonka," he said.

He elbowed his friend next to him, who took up the cry.

"Ooh, Mr. Wonka, those mean men ate my lunch!"

"And here we go thinking she'd be cool," another said.

Scarlett glared at all of them.

"I'm not going to report this to Mr. Wonka," she told them furiously.

"Really?" said Walter. "Then where are you going?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going to a diner," Scarlett said.

She left, without bothering to look back.

* * *

Scarlett checked the clock in the waiting room. Good, just enough time to go out, eat lunch, and come back. She was about to grab her coat, when Maria's voice startled her.

"Where are you heading?" she asked from her desk.

"Out to lunch," Scarlett answered, hoping Maria wouldn't question her further.

"What happened to your turkey sandwich?"

"Oh," Scarlett said, feeling ashamed. "I threw that out."

"You threw out perfectly good turkey?" Maria asked in disbelief.

"I accidentally dropped it on the floor," Scarlett lied.

"That's all?" Maria said, laughing. "Then you can have mine."

"You don't need to starve on my account," Scarlett said, about to get her coat.

Removing the sandwich from a drawer, Maria got up from her desk.

"Relax, it wouldn't be the first time I skipped a meal," Maria said.

Scarlett took the sandwich.

"Thank you," she said.

Maria grinned.

"Better eat up, this will be your last big meal for awhile."

"What do you mean?" Scarlett asked, until it dawned on her. "Wait a minute, you're not talking about the grapefruit diet?"

"Now that Thanksgiving's over, we need to get back to healthy living," Maria said, encouragingly.

"I'm not sure if starving yourself qualifies as healthy living," Scarlett said, hesitantly.

"It's not starving. You still get to eat," Maria defended.

 _Not very much,_ Scarlett thought.

Out loud, she said, "Didn't you tell me to embrace being one of the guys?"

"Yeah, I did. What does that have to do with our diet?"

"Well, I don't think a bunch of guys who don't take me seriously are suddenly going to start when my lunches are nothing more than grapefruit and a boiled egg," Scarlett explained.

 _Though it will stop them from stealing my lunch again,_ Scarlett thought.

"Oh, that's what you're worried about?" Maria said, laughing. "Honey, I already know how to take care of that."

"How?" Scarlett asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"We'll go shopping after work!"

* * *

Maria browsed through different shirts, skirts and dresses with a wide smile on her face.

"This is cute," Maria said, looking at a bright red pencil skirt, and then to a blue sweater. "So is this sweater."

"Maria?" Scarlett asked.

"What, sweetie?" Maria asked absentmindedly, as she continued looking through the various clothes.

Scarlett sighed, wondering why she was expecting to get a considered word out of Maria in a shopping centre. To Scarlett, shopping was something to do when you needed new clothes, because your old clothes were falling off you. To Maria, it was her version of heaven.

Scarlett left Maria to look through the merchandise while she went to find help. It wasn't long until Scarlett spotted the nearest salesgirl.

"Hello," Scarlett said, shyly.

"Ma'am, can I help you?" the salesgirl asked, turning to her.

"I recently got a job at Mr. Wonka's," Scarlett began.

The salesgirl raised a brow. "There's no telling with Mr. Wonka. As a secretary, I hope?"

"No, I work as an artist."

"Oh, I'm sorry then. Follow me," the salesgirl said, with pity.

Scarlett followed the woman to a selection of dresses, skirts, and shirts, with plaid designs that looked very similar to men's suits.

"I don't understand," Scarlett said.

"We occasionally get women like you here," the salesgirl explained, showing off the items.

"Like me?"

"Yes, dear, like you. Girls that gave up any hope of marriage and are trying to be men, but their co-workers won't take them seriously."

"I still want to get married," Scarlett said stupidly.

"Oh," the salesgirl said, giving her a pitiful smile. "Well, good luck with that."

Scarlett ignored the pitying tone and looked through the clothes. "Forgive me for asking, but how is this supposed to get my co-workers to take me seriously?"

"Well, if you want to be treated like a man, you have to dress like a man," the salesgirl explained.

"That's it?" Scarlett asked doubtfully.

"Oh, yes. It's a sure way to make men forget that you're a woman," the salesgirl told her, as if she were explaining to a small child that one and one equals two.

Safe in the privacy of her own thoughts, Scarlett thought of Mr. Wonka.

"I'm not sure if I want my co-workers to forget that I'm a woman," Scarlett said, looking through the clothes doubtfully.

"Then do you want to quit your job, and become a secretary?" the saleswoman asked.

"No, it's just that..." Scarlett started, not sure about how to explain her dilemma. "Never mind." Scarlett took a plaid dress and a yellow shirt from the clothes rack. "I'd like to try these on."

"Dressing room's right over there," the saleswoman told her.

* * *

Scarlett sat in the small dressing room, staring at the clothes she put on the rack. Did she really want to try them on? They looked terrible. But, if it was the only way her co-workers would take her seriously, she would.

Scarlett remembered the dream she'd been told to dream, ever since she was a little girl. The dream that she would live in a house with a white picket fence, with a pretty garden, with beautiful flowers. She'd clean it to perfection, and take care of her children, while her husband was at work. Then her husband would come home to find dinner on the table, and the whole family would happily sit, and chat about their day.

It was the dream her mother always told her she should live for. Scarlett never asked herself if this was the dream she wanted. Of course she was expected to want it, just like every female in America was expected to want it. Now, here she was, about to throw it all away to live in a man's world, just like that saleswoman said.

Maybe she could talk to Mr. Wonka, ask him to consider adding her to his secretarial pool, instead of making her an artist. No, that wouldn't work. Mr. Wonka made it clear that, in his factory, she belonged in the Art Department. To convince Mr. Wonka otherwise would be futile, and maybe foolish. She wanted to be an artist.

Scarlett found herself faced with two options. The first was to quit working for Mr. Wonka, and get a job as a secretary. If she were lucky, she'll fall in love with a rich man, and live the American Dream. The sad part though, was she'd never see Mr. Wonka's beautiful factory again.

The other option was that she could give up on the American Dream all together, and start her life anew, as an artist, working in, what Scarlett dubbed in her mind, the eighth wonder of the world.

Maybe the second option wouldn't be a total loss. After all, she loved drawing and she hated cleaning, but maybe Scarlett would enjoy cleaning more if she was doing it for a man she loved. Scarlett couldn't forget that ever since she was a little girl, her mother had schooled her on how to become the perfect wife and mother. Sure, she strayed from the path in secret, but to abandon the proper path of a woman all together would break her mother's heart. Scarlett gave one last look at the outfit and took it from the rack.

"I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who do you think Scarlett was apologizing to, Willy Wonka or her mother? I've been researching the 1950s and, let me tell you, I'm happy I grew up in the 90s. However, I enjoy writing Unexpected and this version of Scarlett a little bit more than I enjoy writing The Golden Ticket Frenzy and that version of Scarlett. This might sound crazy, but writing a woman in the 50s just has far more opportunities than writing a woman in the present does. I really enjoy writing the fantasy of the 1950s vs. the harsh reality. Don't forget to review. I'm anxious to see what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what do you think? I hope I got Wilder!Wonka in character. Just so you know, this story doesn't have a beta-reader. What I like to do is post the first chapter and then find a beta-reader so I don't have to worry about someone stealing my story. I've also been using azaleas dolls to recreate my OCs and as covers for my stories on fanfiction. I'd rather you didn't use them as a reference for what my characters look like, because it's not 100% accurate on account of they won't let you create anything less than a model on that website. Yes, I'm aware that everything in Willy Wonka's office is chopped in half but this takes place before the movie, so he hasn't got around to it yet. Also, this takes place in 1959 and I've been watching Mad Men and looking up 50s stuff to get a better idea of the time period. That said, I don't agree with the views expressed in this fanfic but I do believe it staying true to the era you're writing in, and that's what I intend to do. Oh, and I've never read or seen Gone With The Wind. However, my mother does love the book and the movie, so that's where I got the information from.


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